Vanilla Rain
by Rabidnar
Summary: When Allison Cameron begins subbing at the local middle school, Remy may get a chance to have the family she's always wanted. Better summary to come.


Eventually I'll get around to updating my stories instead of creating a million new ones. xP  
Actually...I plan on writing some new chapters to old fics this week.

Disclaimer: I don't own House!

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**Vanilla Rain**

"So, how'd you do on your science test?" Kutner sat sideways in his plastic chair, his elbow rested on the wooden desk. "She gave me a ninety-seven because I forgot my name." He kicked his foot against his Transformer's backpack and chewed on the eraser of his yellow, number two pencil. "Three points off because of my stupid name. You'd think she'd recognize my writing by now."

"You'd think," Remy agreed, tracing circles on her desk with her forefinger. "It's the only undecipherable writing in the entire glass." She glanced up at he clock, sighing quietly. It had only been three minutes since she had last glanced up, and there were five minutes left until the bell rang to signal they could all go home. "I did fine."

"Cool." Papers made a mountain on top of Kutner's desk and he grabbed them in one giant handful as Remy looked at the clock. "I thought we'd all get bad grades before she left on…" He paused and shoved his papers into his bag, crumpling them as he tried to stuff them all in.

"Maternity leave," Remy filled in flatly, giving him an annoyed side glance. "That's why we're given folders."

"Maternity leave," Kutner repeated, ignoring what Remy said second. "Y'know. She can make us hate her and then not even be here for a few months. I'd do that. I'd just give everyone zeros and then leave so they'd be angry that no one was around to change their grade." He waved his pencil in the air, circling '0's and mumbling, "Zero. Zero. Zero."

"Well, you'd never have to worry about coming back," Remy assured him. "You'd probably be fired." She rested her chin on the cool wood of the desk and lifted a red folder, opening it slightly. The bright red '45' on her science test glared down at her, followed by a menacing army of red checkmarks.

Rolling his eyes, Kutner tried to peer around the folder to see her face. "Well, you don't have to go all Mr. Grumpy Gills on me."

"I'm not." Remy smacked her folder shut and placed it flat on the desk again, shaking her head. She groaned and crossed her arms, nuzzling her face against the sleeves of her purple sweater. Muffling a yawn with her arm, she closed her eyes then let out a long exhale. "We have math homework, right?"

"The worksheet if you didn't do it in class." Kutner tilted his head to the side, allowing a kid diagonal from him to chuck an eraser at a group of giggling girls. "So, that would be a no."

"Oh," Remy murmured. _So that would be a yes. _She reassured herself that there were only five problems left on the worksheet that needed to be done and it would take her less than fifteen minutes as long as there were no interruptions. The thick smell of dry erase marker wafted through the air, causing her to cough a few times and glance up to see what their homeroom teacher was writing. By the unrecognizable History terms, she assumed it was meant for another class.

"You could come over if you want," Kutner offered. "I got Mario Kart and another issue of National Geo-" He was cut off my the shrill ringing of the school bell.

"Maybe tomorrow." Remy lifted her head and pushed herself to her feet, leaning over the desk and hoisting her plain, white messenger back up and over her shoulder. She slid the folder inside of it then velcroed it closed. "Dad said he wants me to cook dinner tonight." She pursed her lips together and forced a smile, waiting for the crowd of kids to push and shove their way out the door. "You could come eat with us, if you want." She shot him a hopeful glance, tagging along behind everyone else.

"Can't. My social worker is coming as six." He pointed his index finger toward his open mouth and made a gagging noise. "Mary doesn't think I'll get myself home in time if she lets me go out."

"You probably wouldn't," Remy told him with a slight smirk. "You don't exactly give her a reason to trust you with curfews." She finally made it out the door and turned into the hall, nearly getting separated from Kutner in the even larger group of students.

"Well, when was the last time I was late?" Kutner reached forward, gripping the strap of Remy's messenger bag so he wouldn't lose her. "And you can't count last Tuesday because I had to stop at the post office."

"Last Tuesday counts!" She exclaimed with a quiet laugh. "I asked you five hundred times if you wanted to go to the post office and you kept putting it off. Last Tuesday definitely counts. Oh, and two weeks ago when-"

"Okay, I get it." Kutner stepped through the double glass doors and walked away from the buses. "She could at least make my curfew an hour early and then maybe I'd get there in time."

"Or you could always try leaving an hour early if she ever decides to let you out of the house again." Remy followed him, shoving her hands deep in the pockets of her jeans after readjusting the strap of her messenger bag on her shoulder. She sniffled and hunched her shoulders, protecting the sides of her neck from the icy wind. "We should take the bus."

"William Smith rides our bus," Kutner replied, furiously shaking his head. "Do you want me to get my face pounded in? He said the next time he sees me, he's going to knock out all of my teeth and make a necklace out of them. Have you seen that shark tooth he wears around his neck?"

"Yeah, he brought it at a shop by the beach. They sell them there for five dollars." She heaved a sigh, watching as her breath made foggy clouds in front of her face. "We're going to freeze to death," she murmured through chattering teeth, dragging her sneakers along the snow pavement.

"Wear a jacket tomorrow." Kutner tugged at the sleeves of his brown hooded jacket then managed to wrestle it over his head without taking his backpack off. "Here."

"Keep it," Remy responded not even glancing over. "You have further to walk than I do."

"You could always give it back when we reach your house." Instead of forcing it on her, he pulled it back over his head and left it like that without sliding his arms back through the sleeves. "I'd make you wear it, but a face full of snow doesn't seem very warm."

"You know me well." Remy broke into a grin and knelt down, gathering a handful of snow in her bare hands. "What about a back full." Grabbing his hood, she pulled him to the side before he could react and dropped the snow under his jacket. "Can't get me back!" she shouted as she took off running down the sidewalk, further away from the school.

"Remy!" Kutner hopped up and down, tugging at his jacket and trying to knock all of the snow out of it. He clumsily ran after her, half skipping as the cold snow melted against his back and soaked through his shirt. "That's not fair!"

"I don't play fair!" She scrambled around the corner then up the stairs of the first house. Sticking her tongue out, she scooped the snow up off the banister to arm herself. "Get me back, I dare you!"

Kutner ducked behind a brush and grabbed a handful of snow, still twitching in attempt to knock some of the snow away from his back. "You're in for it." He raised his arm and closed one eye, trying to aim.

The door to the house swung open, revealing a man in a baggy, grey sweat suit. "Are you trying to freeze your ass off?" He grabbed Remy by the arm, roughly pulling her toward the inside of the house.

Managing to shoot Kutner a brief apologetic glance, she dropped the armful of snow and stumbled inside. "I was just playing, Dad!" She yanked her arm away from his grip once they were inside then kicked her shoes off by the door. "I was coming inside after a second."

"Where the hell is your jacket?" Mr. Hadley shut the door and looked his daughter over, shaking his head in disapproval. "I thought I told you this morning I didn't want you out of this house without a jacket on."

"I forgot it upstairs. It's not like I planned on taking a walk through the tundra." Remy stamped her feet to get the snow that was caked to the bottom of her pantslegs off. "You want me to go put it on?" she inquired as she walked toward the steps.

"No, I don't want you to wear your jacket in the house," Mr. Hadley growled. "Mouth back one more time…" He let his voice trail off as he turned and walked toward the kitchen.

Huffing quietly, Remy clenched her jaw and climbed the first three stairs. She leaned over the banister and watched him walk away then jogged up the rest of her steps and ran into her room, tossing her bag at the bed and missing. She kicked the door shut with her heel and clenched her fists together, breathing slowly through her nose. "Well, now I'm cold," she mumbled to no one and grabbed her hooded jacket. Soaking in the warmth, she closed her eyes and tugged it over her head then slid her arms through the sleeves.

There was rattling in the kitchen, but she ignored it as she didn't plan on making anything to eat for at least another two hours. Kneeling down on the floor, she unvelcroed her bag and pulled the red folder out then opened it flat on the floor. "Stupid test," she hissed, rooting through her bag for a pen. She finally found an old blue one and uncapped it then leant forward and scribbled down her father's name on the line that called for a parent's signature.

"What'd you do at school today?" Mr. Hadley took a seat at the table and swirled his beer can in a circle, placing his attention on his daughter. "Just get into more trouble with that idiot?"

"He's not an idiot, Dad." Remy brought the bowl of pasta over to the table and put it down then pushed it toward the middle. "He's my friend, and, no, I didn't get in trouble." She pulled her chair out then sat down, inching forward and scooting herself in slightly.

Mr. Hadley leaned forward and peered into the pot, wrinkling his nose. "You mixed the sauce in with it? Your mother never made it this way."

"It's easier to clean up," Remy murmured, holding her plate forward and dishing some of the pasta onto it with her spoon. "I'll make it different next time."

Her father grunted and reluctantly took a few spoonfuls of their dinner then sat back and poked at it. "How long'd you cook it for?"

Remy glanced up, her spoon halfway toward her mouth. She exhaled quietly and looked down then took a bite of her food, eating in silence.


End file.
